


Seeking Shelter

by sphagnum



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Language Barrier, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Pack Dynamics, Post-Apocalypse, Power Imbalance, Protectiveness, Scent Marking, Scenting, Starvation, Survival, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphagnum/pseuds/sphagnum
Summary: The leader stepped forward, and the betas flanking him moved further out to the side to keep a clear line of fire on Max without impeding the alpha’s progress. The alpha’s nostrils flared and his advancing steps stuttered, pausing and then resuming twice as fast. Max felt a sick little swoop in his belly, grim satisfaction that his plan was working mixed with an awareness of what that would mean for him later.Guns down, gentlemen. Oscar protocol.The betas lowered their rifles instantly, pointing them at the ground in front of Max instead of his chest. Max took a deeper breath in, his tension easing a bit as he moved past the part of the plan where he might just get shot dead before he had a chance to try to bargain. It had always been a risk; it had just seemed like a better death than slow starvation.The alpha stepped closer, looking him over. He was a big man, but also quiet, light on his feet. Max tipped his chin up. It was a gesture of submission, and it showed that his neck was bare. No bonding bites, no competing claims. The added vulnerability made him tremble a little harder, but it was worth it for the way the alpha zeroed in on his throat.





	Seeking Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sort of workshopping this concept, so questions or concrit comments are welcome!
> 
> Content notes: the POV character believes he’s trading sex for food and protection, and has a lot of anxiety about what’s going to happen to him as part of that bargain, so there’s some dubcon behavior on his part where he’s cooperative because he fears retaliation. None of the other characters actually take advantage of him or hurt him, and there’s no actual sex, dubcon or otherwise, in this fic.

Max was stalling. His hand didn’t want to let go of his knife, his fingers clenching more tightly around the hilt the more he tried to persuade himself to put it down. The rest of his belongings were already on the forest floor, neatly laid out in a square of dirt he’d smoothed down, pointlessly, before emptying his pack and his pockets. Everything he owned was lined up for inspection, harmlessly inert. The gun he’d picked up six months ago was separated from its clip. He’d used the last bullet weeks ago.

The knife was all he had left, and now that he was about to be beyond the point of no return, his body was rebelling. He didn’t want to set the knife next to his one set of spare socks and underwear, the bedroll he’d worn thin, the canteen still half-full of water from the stream he’d passed that morning. If he did, then his plan would be a reality. No more chances to back out.

He closed his eyes and focused on the way his belly didn’t even hurt anymore. The hunger pangs had faded out a week ago, replaced by a sick dizzy ache in his head. He was slowing down. It had been a struggle to keep up with the caravan he was tracking, even though they were moving slowly, as cautious about where they settled for the night as Max was. He didn’t think they had spotted him. The virus had a lot to answer for, but it had boosted his senses far above baseline, and that had kept him alive more than once. He had better sight and hearing than anyone he’d met since the outbreak.

He hadn’t eaten in three days. If he didn’t eat soon, he would die. If he didn’t put the knife down, he couldn’t eat. Max focused on that simple chain of logic to avoid thinking about what else went along with putting the knife down.

Up ahead of him, someone laughed, the innocuous sound a surreal counterpoint to his racing pulse. It was a nice laugh, almost a giggle, nothing mean about it. This pack was nice. They would be nice to him. He wasn’t sure if he was lying to himself. It didn’t _matter_ if he was lying. He hadn’t eaten in three days.

He put the knife down. It made a pretty pathetic spread, all of his worldly possessions laid out in the dirt in a square barely two feet across, his bike leaning against a tree trunk behind everything else. He turned away quickly, trying not to waste momentum, trying to commit before the doubts could rise again.

It went against all his habits to let the brush catch on his ankles as he walked, but he did it anyway. It didn’t take long for the clearing up ahead to go silent. The men he’d been tracking always set up a watch in camp, always monitored for unexpected sounds. Max made his steps slow and steady and clearly audible.

He raised his hands up to shoulder height, palms forward, before he took a deep breath and stepped out of the shelter of the trees. Two of the men were already standing and pointing rifles at him, with a third standing in between them. Max could smell a fourth man, the other alpha, on the far side of the lead RV. He’d be watching the camp’s other side in case Max was a diversion. Max had seen the pack react to an unexpected noise the same way two nights ago, automatically dispersing to guard the whole perimeter of the camp. This pack was careful. Max would appreciate that, if this worked out.

They were careful enough not to shoot an apparently unarmed man who had his arms raised in surrender. Max appreciated that a _lot_. He stopped at the edge of camp as soon as one of the men holding a rifle on him barked a sentence. _That’s close enough, friend._

“I really hope this isn’t a terrible idea,” Max said. As always, the words got mangled somewhere in between his brain and his mouth, and what came out was clumsy and slurred. As far as he could tell, nothing he said was ever intelligible. It was hard for him to know. Nothing he _heard_ was ever intelligible, either, no matter how easily other people could understand it. The virus had scrambled his speech center pretty thoroughly, and spoken language was a mystery to him.

The lead alpha wasn’t pointing a rifle at him. He was standing in between the other two men, directly in front of the trailer doors. Both omegas had disappeared--they were probably in the trailer, out of sight and scent range. The other alpha wasn’t in sight, so he’d be the man out back. The lead alpha was the one staring Max down.

 _He’s a babel?_ The man who’d spoken sent a quick look at the leader, but his aim didn’t waver. Max’s upraised arms were already burning from the strain of holding them high, but he didn’t dare lower them without permission.

 _Apparently_. The leader stepped forward, and the betas flanking him moved further out to the side to keep a clear line of fire on Max without impeding the alpha’s progress. The alpha’s nostrils flared and his advancing steps stuttered, pausing and then resuming twice as fast. Max felt a sick little swoop in his belly, grim satisfaction that his plan was working mixed with an awareness of what that would mean for him later. _Guns down, gentlemen. Oscar protocol._

The betas lowered their rifles instantly, pointing them at the ground in front of Max instead of his chest. Max took a deeper breath in, his tension easing a bit as he moved past the part of the plan where he might just get shot dead before he had a chance to try to bargain. It had always been a risk; it had just seemed like a better death than slow starvation.

The alpha stepped closer, looking him over. He was a big man, but also quiet, light on his feet. Max tipped his chin up. It was a gesture of submission, and it showed that his neck was bare. No bonding bites, no competing claims. The added vulnerability made him tremble a little harder, but it was worth it for the way the alpha zeroed in on his throat.

 _Is he--_ The beta with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail moved his rifle to the side so it pointed at the edge of the treeline instead of anywhere near Max. _Is he seriously an omega?_

 _He sure smells like one._ The alpha was right in front of him, but he didn’t reach out to touch. He circled Max instead, prowling behind him, looking him over from every angle. Max locked his back and shoulder muscles with the effort not to turn and watch his progress. _Pete, go check his path. I want to know where he came from and if we should expect more company._

The beta who hadn’t spoken yet raised his rifle and walked into the forest, retracing Max’s steps.

Max flinched hard when a hand closed on his wrist. His head ducked instinctively, his shoulders coming up to guard his neck.

 _Easy. Your arms are shaking._ The alpha lowered Max’s hand to his side, then reached for his other arm. Max lowered his other hand quickly.

 _Good_. The alpha circled back to his front. Backlit by their tiny camping lantern, the alpha was a black silhouette, no details of his expression visible. _It doesn't look like anyone's been taking care of you. Are you a runaway? Or are you bait?_

"If this is an interrogation, it's going to be a really one-sided one," Max said. It was bothering him that he couldn’t see the alpha’s face. All he had to go on was the tone of the alpha’s voice, which was unnervingly even. He’d been prepared for anger at his intrusion, or excitement over the possibilities an unguarded omega represented, but this quiet, neutral tone wasn’t giving him much to read.

The alpha reached out, slow enough that Max could check his instinct to shy away. His fingers traced over the skin of Max’s throat, feeling their way along, mapping out the whole column of his neck. Checking to see if he was concealing a bite under makeup? The alpha’s hands moved from there down Max’s chest and arms, then around to his back, patting him down for weapons or supplies or whatever other secrets he thought Max might be hiding. Max’s threadbare sweater didn’t have any pockets, and his jean pockets were empty. He couldn’t help but go rigid when the alpha felt along his inseam, but the alpha didn’t take the opportunity to get a grope in. He just moved back down the other leg.

The alpha untied Max’s boots and pulled up on his ankle. Max wobbled unsteadily on one leg, but didn’t fight as his boots were taken away one by one. Once the boots were off, the alpha pulled up the sole of each boot, then smoothed it back into place after not finding any surprises. The alpha knotted the laces loosely and set the boots to the side rather than give them back. To make it harder for him to run? Max dug his toes into the dirt and felt the damp wick up his socks. Great. A new way to be cold.

Maybe shoes were a privilege he’d have to earn. He was trying not to think about what earning his place would entail. The alpha was still _staring_ at him, his eyes narrowed with focus. His dark hair was clipped short, just long enough to curl around the tops of his ears.

The alpha looked up as the second beta came jogging back. _What'd you find?_

 _His stuff._ The beta had all of Max's belongings except his bike bundled up in his arms. He set them on one of the rocks the men had been sitting on instead of in the dirt. That was considerate of him, but something of a wasted effort--there was no way Max's things could get any dirtier from resting on the ground than they already were. _Shitty bike with soft tires. Empty pistol, bedroll with one blanket, spare clothes. Nice knife, good canteen. No food. No sign of anyone else. I circled back a ways, didn't see anything but his foot trail._

The alpha picked up the pistol, confirmed it was empty, and pocketed it along with the knife. Max’s fingers twitched as he suppressed an urge to reach for his knife, and he flattened his hands against his thighs to avoid moving them again.

 _He's too thin._ The chatty beta was moving closer, his expression a little easier to see. He was frowning, and Max tried not to tense up as he got closer. _Jesus, he's_ really _too thin._

 _He's starving._ The alpha touched him again, a hand at the small of his back this time. Max froze, then stumbled forward as soon as he realized the alpha wanted him to move. The alpha steered him towards the camp light and then down to onto the rock with his possessions. Max sat heavily, blinking up at the men looming over him before anxiety swamped him and he had to angle his head down again. He looked at the alpha’s boots instead. His own curled-in socked feet looked small in comparison, but the alpha wasn’t that much taller than him, even if he did have at least 50 pounds more muscle. Not that size mattered much. The only way Max was going to win a fight against _anyone_ in the pack would be to not start one. _He's starving, and he still snuck up on us._ _How long has he been shadowing us?_

The quieter beta was crouching over a pot near the camp light. He straightened up with mug held in his hand. Max’s eyes locked onto it as soon as he smelled the savory steam rising from its contents. His stomach woke up with a sharp pang. _You think he planned this out?_

 _I’m sure of it._ The alpha’s hand was resting on his shoulder now, not a heavy weight, but enough of a warning not to go anywhere that Max was keeping himself very still. He leaned forward a little anyway as the beta brought the mug over. He couldn’t help moving towards the food.

The chatty beta leaned in to look at the mug’s contents, backing off when the other beta gave him a light shove. _He’ll get sick if he drinks that all at once._

 _I’ll make sure he goes slow._ The alpha accepted the mug from the beta and held it to Max’s lips.

Months ago, Max would have shied away from hand feeding and all that it implied. Now, he was too focused on drinking down the rich salty broth to care about how it was being given to him. The soup was something heated up from a can, or maybe just beef stock, but it was the first hot food Max had gotten in months, and it was still more substantial than the tiny wild onions he’d managed to dig up three days ago. Droplets of grease floating on the surface coated his cracked lips as he drank greedily.

The alpha pulled the cup away. Max had to bite back a whine and clench his hands around his thighs to keep from reaching for it. Message received: he got what he was given, and no more.

 _Take it easy_. The apha was still talking to him in that calm, even voice, his hand rubbing at Max’s back. Max wasn’t sure whether it was better or worse that the alpha was talking to him even though Max couldn’t understand him; it was probably better than being talked over, but it wasn’t like Max could respond. _Give it a chance to settle. You’ll get more if you don’t throw this up._

Max tried to relax. He knew what this pack was like. He’d seen them eating all together, the omegas’ bowls filled just as full as the alphas’. They wouldn’t starve him for no reason. With any luck, this was just a little obedience test combined with a dominance display, and he could pass it by keeping quiet and waiting them out, and then they’d give him the rest. He’d known that giving himself to the pack would mean playing by their rules. It would be stupid to beg for more food before he’d even done anything to earn it.

This pack was still his best option. They were damn near his _only_ option, at this point, but belonging to some of the alphas he’d observed in the time he’d been traveling would quite literally be a fate worse than death. It had been a stroke of luck to find a pack that seemed survivable when he was so close to running out of other options.

Or maybe starvation had lowered his standards. Six of one, half dozen of the other.

But he’d watched this pack for four days, collecting evidence, trying to make up his mind. He’d seen them eat, the alphas filling everyone’s bowls and making sure one of the omegas got seconds at lunch and dinner (it had taken him a day to realize that omega was pregnant; he was showing, just barely, but the bigger tip-off was how everyone was extra careful with him, keeping all of their shoving and rough-housing far away from the omegas in general and that omega in particular). He’d seen that the omegas didn’t have any more bruises than the rest of the men, and that both of them went loose and pliant when they were pulled into the other men’s laps. He’d seen them fuck, in a few different configurations, and the omegas were never slapped around or tied down. They never smelled or sounded like they were in pain. Max could do a lot worse.

One of the omegas was more skittish than the other. When one of the betas came up from behind unexpectedly and startled him, his scent had zinged with adrenaline before he'd seen who it was and relaxed. Max thought he’d been added to the pack more recently than all the others. There were scars on his back, faded and white, that Max didn’t think had come from anyone in the pack. He hoped not. The omega didn’t seem scared enough of anyone in the pack for them to be responsible.

The rest of the pack worked together like a seamless unit. Max was positive they had been military, maybe even all in the same unit, including the pregnant omega, who handled a rifle as deftly as any of the others.

This was survivable. Max released his grip on his thighs slowly, letting each finger relax in turn. He’d found a pack with extra food, a pack that had taken in a stray omega before, a pack that treated its omegas gently. These men wouldn’t hurt him without a reason. He just had to avoid giving them a reason.

A new voice called from the other side of the caravan, sounding a little annoyed. _Will one of you assholes relieve me so I can come see what the fuck is going on?_

The alpha jerked his head and the quiet beta went around the side of the caravan. Moments later, the second alpha popped out, his rifle slung over his shoulder and pointing at the ground. Max ducked his head a little at the alpha’s approach. It had been more than a year since he let an alpha get this close to him without shooting them, much less _two_ alphas, and his flight reflex had his legs tense and ready to move. Running would be an _incredibly_ stupid idea, but his instincts hadn’t gotten that memo yet.

 _Holy shit._ The alpha stopped a few feet away and gave the lead alpha an incredulous look before half-crouching to better stare at Max. He had a shaggy mop of sandy hair over a thin, strong-jawed face. Max cut his eyes to the side rather than try to hold eye contact. Some alphas took that as a challenge. _Holy shit, what the fuck is an omega doing alone out here? He’s not even_ marked _, holy_ shit _._

 _How long do you think he’s been on his own?_ The chatty beta loomed in unexpectedly from his other side, startling Max into pressing back into the lead alpha’s hand, which was still holding his shoulder. _He looks totally freaked out._

_Then back off and stop breathing garlic fumes on him, Wes. For shit’s sake. Are we keeping him?_

_Are you kidding me, of_ course _we’re keeping him, look at Sarge’s face._

 _Are you done?_ The lead alpha’s tone had gone long-suffering.

 _We’re totally keeping him._ The second alpha straightened up and grinned. _Isaac’s gonna flip his shit. All those maternal instincts are about to smack this poor guy upside the head. What’s his name, anyway?_

 _None of his stuff said._ The beta picked up Max’s spare clothes, turning them over in his hands. Max flushed a little at how threadbare and dingy they looked. Everyone in the pack was pretty clean, once you accounted for the normal dirt of rough living. Max had given up on niceties like washing his hands months ago, around the same time the ground froze solid and finding food had meant digging up roots instead of climbing apple trees. _No initials, even._

_What, you think his laundry is mixing up with anyone else’s? I don’t smell anyone on his stuff besides him. He’s been on his own for months, at least._

_That is fucked up, man._ The beta was frowning again. Max winced and looked down. He couldn’t even apologize for whatever was wrong. He’d forgotten how frustrating it was to not be able to talk to people. It had been so long since there’d been anyone around to talk to. _How’d he even last that long?_

 _He’s smart._ The lead alpha got down on one knee in front of Max and raised his head with a hand on his chin. Max got his first good look at the alpha’s expression, which was serious, but more thoughtful than angry. He had surprisingly long eyelashes, making his dark eyes look deceptively gentle. _He tracked us, he left his gear behind to make sure he wouldn’t look like a threat, and he staged his approach so we’d hear him coming. He’s smart and he’s careful. We’re going to have to watch him._

The second alpha rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. _You think he’s going to try something? He’s about to fall over from the effort of sipping broth._

 _He’s scared, and scared people do dumb shit._ The alpha brought the cup of broth back to his lips. Max closed his eyes while he drank, trying to hide from the alpha’s gaze. This time the alpha let him drain the mug, and even held the mug still while he licked the last drops from the rim.

The trailer door banged open. Max jumped, accidentally dislodging the alpha’s hand, then tried to freeze. He wasn’t supposed to make sudden movements.

The alpha sighed, but he wasn’t looking at Max when he spoke. _What part of “wait in the RV” was unclear?_

 _Did we seriously find a new omega?_ The pregnant omega was trotting down the trailer steps, making a beeline for Max. The lead alpha and beta both stepped forward to intercept, although the second alpha just stepped back with a smile, then jogged over to the trailer. Max suppressed a wince and put his hands on his knees, palms up, and rounded his shoulders, projecting _unthreatening_ as hard as he could. He had no illusions that his dynamic would save him if the pack thought he was a threat to the baby or its dam. _Oh my God, he’s so thin, fuck. You fed him, right?_

 _He’s on liquids until I say so!_ Max startled again at the shout from the other side of the trailer. He’d almost forgotten about the quiet beta. Fuck, he needed to learn these people’s names. _Liquids, then simple carbs like rice, then small amounts of protein. His stomach’s not up for much else._

 _Whatever you say, doc!_ The omega crouched in front of Max, giving him a friendly smile. Max tried to hold eye contact. _Awww, he’s cute. Scared as shit, but cute. Have these big bad alphas and betas been mean to you, baby boy? You need me to beat ‘em up for you?_

The alpha put his hand over his face and dragged it down. Max swallowed uncertainly. The omega was crooning at him in a way his instincts wanted to respond to, to reciprocate. It had been a long time since he’d talked to another omega. “I should introduce myself,” he tried, keeping his voice soft and his eyes down.

 _Yeah, you’re a babel, huh? That’s fine, sweetheart, you don’t need to worry, these assholes have the market cornered on talking shit. Did they bother to find out if you can count? I bet they didn’t._ The omega edged closer, glaring at the beta until he moved out of the way, then instantly switching back to beaming at Max. His pheromones were radiating friendly excitement, an odd match for his military regulation buzzcut and aggressively defined biceps. He was taller than the lead alpha and almost as broad. Max wondered, a little hysterically, if the baby was going to come out of the womb already able to do a perfect push-up. _Let’s try counting, okay? Wes, help me out here._

The beta turned to face the omega as the omega held up fingers on his hands. One finger on his first hand, three fingers on his second hand. The beta held up four fingers. Three fingers on the omega’s first hand, four fingers on his second hand. The beta held up seven fingers.

 _You get it?_ The omega raised his eyebrows at Max expectantly, and Max nodded. When the omega held up two fingers on his first hand, three fingers on his second hand, Max held up five fingers. They did simple counting twice more before the omega nodded and dropped his hands. The virus had scrambled some people’s ability to work with numbers, but Max had never had that problem. He could still derive the Pythagorean theorem if he had to, for all the good that did him now.

“Can I show you something?” Max darted a look up at the alpha, who seemed watchful but not alarmed, and then dared to lift a hand slowly. He pointed at the dirt, then leaned forward to trace his finger through it. He drew the lines so the text was oriented towards the omega. When he was done, he straightened up and pointed at himself. “That’s me.”

 _Max. That’s your name? Pleased to meet you._ The omega held out a hand, and after waiting a moment to see if the alpha or beta were about to object, Max took it. The omega pumped his hand up and down vigorously, and Max was swamped by the absurdity of the banal greeting in this context. _There we go, there’s a smile. You have a great smile, kid. My turn for introductions, right?_ The omega traced his finger through the dirt, orienting the letters towards Max, no hesitation over writing upside-down and back-to-front.

“Isaac,” Max said, and gave Isaac a hesitant smile. “Nice to meet you.”

 _Oh my god, he’s so fucking cute._ Isaac grinned at him, then elbowed the beta. _Tell him your names, assholes, c’mon, you’re being rude._

The beta shook his head, but crouched and wrote _Weston_ in the dirt before making an exaggerated grossed-out face, which Isaac laughed at, and blurring out the end to just leave _Wes_. The alpha waited until Max nodded at Wes in acknowledgement, then swept the dirt clear and wrote _Nick_.

“Hi, Wes. Hi, Nick.”

 _He’s bunking with us, right?_ Isaac gave Nick an expectant look. _Right?_

_Do you think Johnny would be okay with that?_

Isaac tapped his fingers on his knees. He still hadn’t stood up from his crouch. _Of course he’d be okay with it._

_He’s a stranger._

_He’s a strange_ omega _in rough shape. Johnny’s not going to turn him away._

 _He’s gonna over-identify the fuck out of this._ Wes pressed gently on Isaac’s shoulder, herding him out of his crouch so he was sitting on the stone next to Max.

 _Probably_. Isaac scooted to the edge of his stone, knocking his shoulder into Max’s. Max froze and checked Nick’s expression. _Sarge, tell him he can touch me without you murdering him, c’mon, this baby boy needs hugs and my body is ready._

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ Nick ran a warm hand over Max’s hair, then nudged his opposite shoulder, moving him towards Isaac. Max shuffled cautiously closer. He jumped when Isaac’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him in close.

 _Be careful with him, man, you’re gonna snap him in half._ Wes was grinning. Nobody seemed unhappy. Max let himself relax into the warmth of Isaac’s side. Isaac’s scent had gone mellow and soothing. He seemed genuinely happy to welcome Max into the pack, which was better than Max had dared to hope for.

 _He’s going to fall asleep right there if you keep that up._ The alpha’s voice was quieter now, a rumble that part of Max was reassured by and part of him was wary of. Instincts and the voice of experience had very different things to say about whether or not it was safe to let alphas in close.

 _He could use the rest. Especially if he’s been biking to keep up with us._ Isaac ran a hand over Max’s shoulder and arm, stroking up and down over his sleeve, and Max’s eyes closed. He turned his face into Isaac’s collarbone without quite meaning to do it. Isaac didn’t push him off, just pulled him in a little tighter. _Baby boy’s exhausted._

The alpha’s voice wasn’t quite so dispassionate anymore; he sounded softer, maybe thanks to the pheromones Isaac was giving off. Did those work on alphas, too? _We should get him cleaned up before bed._

 _You think he’s got fleas? Do you have fleas, sweetheart?_ Isaac’s hand combed through the sweat-matted hair behind his ear, and Max made an involuntary noise of pleasure. _I don’t see lice. Still, I bet you’d like to get some of that grime off, huh?_

_I guess a dunk in the river would wake him up._

_Wes, you make one move to toss this precious angel in the river and I’ll cut your balls off, don’t test me._ Isaac’s fingers moved further back over Max’s scalp, detangling as they went. Max had cut his hair almost to the scalp with a pair of scissors at the beginning of the summer, and it had grown in thick and wild, all his curls matting together. Isaac skipped over the mats mostly, just tugging at the ends to get the loosest knots out. _Make yourself useful and heat up a bucket. And get him some spare clothes, there should be some clean ones in the red bin._

Everyone was quiet for a while. Max actually started to fall asleep right there on Isaac’s shoulder, before the sound of a something thumping into the dirt by his feet jolted him upright. Wes had set a full bucket of water, faintly steaming, in front of him and was looking at Isaac expectantly. Nick was all the way across the clearing, leaning into the trailer’s open door and talking to someone inside. The missing omega. Max could hear their voices, the omega’s quick questions and Nick’s slower answers. He tuned it out as best as he could.

 _You wanna wash up, Max? Get clean? All that dirt’s gotta itch, and if you get fleas in the bed Johnny will bitch about it forever._ Isaac leaned forward and fished a sponge out of the bucket, then held it out to Max. It was blue and shaped like a duck. Max blinked at it for long moments before he realized why Isaac was offering it to him.

He flushed, humiliated all over again by his dirty clothes and filthy hands. Isaac had just touched his _hair_ , which was so greasy Max could give himself a sloppy mohawk just by pulling it upright. Max couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done more than a cursory rinse. With summer on the wane, the rivers and lakes had turned so cold that just washing his face and hands left him shivering. He took the sponge, trying not to cringe at Isaac’s encouraging smile, and scrubbed vigorously at his arms.

 _Get lost, Wes._ Isaac stood up and stretched, his body language casual as he positioned himself between Max and the rest of camp. Wes put his hands up and retreated back to the trailer steps. _It’s cool, Max, I got your back. You take your time._

Max wasn’t about to waste this moment of relative privacy. Of protection, even, for however long it would last. He turned around so he wouldn’t have to see it if the alphas and betas were staring, then pulled off his shirt. Even in the dark, he could see how the water from the sponge went gray as he scrubbed at his arms and fingers as best he could. He squeezed the sponge out and dunked it in the bucket again before moving onto his chest.

Hot water. He focused on that, and not on why they wanted him clean. They’d given him hot water, and they were letting him bathe himself instead of making him hold still while someone else scrubbed him. He tried to be as thorough as he could, not wanting to give them a reason to change their minds. His hair was too tangled to wash properly, but he leaned forward and poured water from the sponge onto the back of his neck, scritching his fingers to spread the water around and wash away the worst of the grit and oil.

He hesitated for a long moment with his hands on his waistband, then shoved his pants and underwear down as well. The fabric stick to his skin, evidence that he’d been sweating despite the chill. Isaac could probably smell the fear on him. Maybe that was why he was whistling softly to himself behind Max’s back, proving to Max that he was still there, while Max tried to wash his legs and feet without bending over too suggestively. It wasn’t his most dignified moment, but he didn’t hear any catcalls from the camp.

He had to squeeze out and refill the sponge so many times that he lost count, but eventually the water running down his legs wasn’t visibly gray, and that seemed good enough for a first pass. Isaac stopped him with a hand on his arm when he reached for his discarded pants and Max’s belly iced over, but Isaac handed him a pair of clean sweatpants before the fear could really take root. He pulled the sweatpants on and accepted a new shirt with a nod of thanks. The shirt smelled like Wes and the second alpha and the omega he hadn’t met yet; Isaac and Nick and the quiet beta were all taller than the others, and probably rotated their own sets of clothes.

 _Better?_ Isaac was smiling at him again. Freshly washed and armored in thicker, warmer clothing, Max found the energy to smile back. _Beautiful. You look wiped out, c’mon, it’s bedtime._

Isaac wrapped a hand around Max’s arm. That cold apprehension slithered back into his belly as Isaac gave him a gentle tug towards the trailer steps, but Max followed the light pressure immediately, wanting to make sure he seemed cooperative. They’d fed him. They’d given him clothes. He’d accepted their protection. He would pay whatever that cost him.

Nick was talking to the quiet beta beside the trailer steps. _Double watch tonight, four hour shifts. Isaac and I will keep him in the trailer, but if someone turns up looking for him, I want us prepared._

 _Understood, Sarge._ The quiet beta gave Isaac and Max a nod, eyes lingering curiously on Max, before he peeled off to the other side of camp.

Nick waved Isaac forward, then Max, then brought up the rear. The inside of the trailer was dim, lit by a few tiny solar lamps. The door opened into a living room/kitchenette with a couch and a small table along opposite walls. The other omega was standing by the table, one hand gripping the back of a chair tightly, his scent a muddle of anxiety and tentative pleasure. He stared at Max with wide eyes.

“Hi. Sorry. Hello,” Max said, somehow more wrong-footed about this than any of the other introductions. Nobody else had been _scared_ of him. He ducked his head, wishing he were shorter than the other omega instead of about the same size.

 _He’s--really nervous._ The omega edged closer to Isaac, and Max stepped back a little into Nick so he wouldn’t be in the way. _Like,_ really _nervous. Like, I know_ I’m _nervous, but he’s_ way _more nervous._

 _We’re still strangers to him. He probably doesn’t like strangers any more than you do._ Nick’s hand closed over Max’s shoulder in a loose hold. _Alternately, he’s bait in some kind of trap and he’s scared that we’ll find out._

 _Anyone ever tell you you’re paranoid, Nick?_ Isaac pulled the omega in and dropped a loud smacking kiss against his cheek. The omega visibly relaxed.

Nick snorted. _No such thing as paranoid in an apocalypse, Isaac._

The omega took a cautious step forward, then another. Max tilted his chin up and spread his hands out at his sides.

 _Uh, hi. Welcome. Unless Nick is right and you’re a trap, but I don’t think you are._ The omega stopped a foot away and flared his nostrils. Max found himself drawing a deep breath of his own, scenting him back. The sour nervous scent was fading, giving way to a fainter echo of Isaac’s friendly welcome scent. _I don’t smell anyone else on him at all._

 _I hope you’re right. Time will tell. For now, let’s put him to bed, he needs the rest._ Nick steered Max forward with a hand on his shoulder. Max’s pulse thumped loudly in his ears when he saw the room Nick was guiding him towards. The tiny bedroom had two mattresses shoved together with a blanket stuffed in the middle to fill the gap, so all but a thin strip of the floor was covered. The room smelled like Nick and both omegas and sex, and, faintly, like the rest of the pack, Wes and the other alpha and the quiet beta. The whole pack must rotate through sleeping there sometimes, but Nick and his omegas slept there every night. This would be where they kept Max.

It would be warm in the bed, with four bodies in the small space, and there were pillows piled up around the edges where the mattresses met the walls. It had been months since he’d slept with a pillow. Max tried to focus on that as he and Nick stopped at the edge of the mattresses, the other omegas crowding in close behind them. After--after, he could go to sleep, and if he kept being good, maybe he would get a pillow.

He had a sudden, vivid longing for his own bedroll, battered and chilly though it was. If he were spending the night in his bedroll he could tuck it below the trailer, under this room instead of inside it. He’d slept under cars before. It would be safe and snug under the solid metal body of the trailer, and he’d know there were people nearby who were on watch, ready to guard against rogue alphas or unfriendly packs or wild dogs. If he were sleeping in his own bedroll, he wouldn’t have to--

Nick nudged him forward and Max stepped onto the mattress, careful about where he put his feet. He was shaking again, but he couldn’t help that. It didn’t count. He was still going where Nick put him. He was still being good.

_Hey, no, new kid and I get the middle, c’mon._

_New kid gets the side by me._ Nick hadn’t pushed Max any farther. Max turned and saw him looking calmly at Isaac, who looked annoyed. _I’ll be in the middle with you._

_He’s freaking out again. I can calm him down if we’re in the middle._

_We don’t know him. I don’t want him that close to you and Johnny._

_Oh, for fuck’s sake, Nick. I don’t need protecting from an exhausted runaway, don’t sideline him out on my account._

_I’m not kicking him out, but if he’s going to be here while you guys are sleeping, I’m going to be in between him and the two of you._

_I_ knew _this baby shit was fucking with your head._

They were arguing over him. Max was wide awake now, heart hammering as Isaac made sharp, angry gestures towards Max and Nick shook his head. Isaac tried to step forward and Nick moved sideways to get in his way, keeping Max pinned in behind him. Keeping Isaac from reaching him.

Isaac had protected him when he was washing up. Maybe he was trying to protect him now, except this time, the pack alpha wasn’t going to let him. Max swallowed and stepped backwards, towards the side of the bed where Nick had been herding him. He pulled his shirt off with trembling hands.

_It’s not just the baby, I don’t want him that close to Johnny, either._

_Don’t bullshit me, Nick--_

_Guys, stop!_ Max flinched as the second omega outright yelled something. He tried to work faster. _Look at him._

Nick and Isaac went quiet. Max didn’t dare look up. His sweatpants were puddled around his ankles. He crouched stiffly and pulled them into his arms with his shirt. He wanted to know where his new clothes were, wanted to be able to put them back on after.

_Fuck, Nick. You need to fix this. You need to fix this shit right now._

Isaac sounded furious, but Max couldn’t apologize now. He’d have to do it later. Right now, he needed to make sure that Nick got what he wanted before he got angry. He didn’t want anyone to fight over him or get hurt trying to delay the inevitable. On shaky arms, he moved to present, kneeling on the mattress with his face pressed into the blankets, his arms braced by his head. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The mattress dipped by his side. Max’s body was rigid, but he was breathing in carefully controlled bursts, counting to four with each breath in and out. He wasn’t going to fight. He wasn’t going to panic. He was being good.

Something soft settled over his body. Max opened his eyes and raised his head just enough to look. A blanket.

Nick was kneeling at his side, smoothing a hand over the blanket he’d just draped over Max. When he saw Max looking at him, he tugged the blanket up higher, tucking it firmly around Max’s shoulders. Max swallowed hard, a different kind of fear kindling in his chest. Had he misunderstood? Did they not want him, were they not going to keep him, were they going to trade him or sell him or--

Nick’s hand closed over the back of Max’s neck. Max’s eyes went heavy-lidded instantly, his spine loosening and head drooping as his body tipped into automatic submission.

 _Easy, Max. You don’t need to do that. It’s okay. You’re safe._ Nick was rumbling at him, low and soothing. His fingers massaged the sides of Max’s neck. When he leaned in, Max tipped his head to the side without needing to think about it. Nick rubbed his jaw and cheek along Max’s throat, scent-marking him, and Max’s insides went watery with relief. Keeping him. They were keeping him. Maybe Nick wanted him to be fed and rested up before he claimed him, or to wait until the omegas were more familiar with him, but he wouldn’t scent-mark an omega he was planning to get rid of. Alphas had instincts of their own, and possessiveness was one of the strongest.

 _That’s it. Good. You’re doing well._ Nick rolled Max onto his side, towards the middle of the bed. Isaac instantly cuddled up behind him, his weight compressing the mattress enough that Max slid into the line of his body. _Get him dressed, Isaac._

Isaac’s hands moved under the blanket, pulling Max’s shirt back over his head. Max fumbled his arms into the sleeves while Isaac got his pants up to his waist. His whole body felt slow and clumsy from endorphins and exhaustion. He felt like he was dreaming, but scents were never this vivid in dreams, and he could smell Nick and Isaac and the other omega, everyone calming down now that the tension had broken.

Nick squeezed Max’s neck one last time, then let go. He looked up at the other omega. _Johnny. Good work._

 _Thanks._ The other omega sounded shyly pleased. Max heard the other mattress creak as he crawled into the bed. Everyone shifted a little, arranging themselves, Nick and Isaac on either side of Max, with the other omega on Isaac’s far side.

 _He’s in._ Isaac’s voice was quiet but firm. _He’s mine. He’s ours._

 _Yeah_. Nick’s broad hand landed on Max’s head, petting over his hair. Max’s eyes closed. _I’m starting to get that._

 _Knew you’d catch up eventually._ Isaac wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged his head down to rest on Isaac’s chest. It should have felt confining, maybe, but Max relaxed into it instantly. Isaac was warm, and he smelled safe. When Isaac spoke, Max felt the buzz of it under his cheek. _If someone comes after him, I’m putting them down._

 _I know. We’ll help._ Nick’s weight shifted on the bed, and Max heard the soft sounds of a kiss over his head. Good; he hadn’t caused a real rift between the two pack leads, only a temporary disagreement. They seemed to have come to a compromise. He still wasn’t sure what this meant for him in the long run, but--it was so good to be held close like this, the blanket soft against his skin, Isaac’s arms protective, Nick’s hand stroking over his scalp and down his neck. Sleep pulled him down fast as his body succumbed to the unusual luxury of feeling _safe._


End file.
